


Cut (My Head Off) & Run (Away)

by oh_so_shiny



Series: Cut & Run Zombie AU [1]
Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Brains. And not so nice things happening to a cock-a-poo., Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_so_shiny/pseuds/oh_so_shiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's zombie apocalypse, and Ty is doing a little bit of soul-searching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut (My Head Off) & Run (Away)

"Here, doggie... C'mon, where are you, you goddamn mutt?"

There were other things he'd rather have been doing. So many other things. 

Going to the supermarket now would have been pointless since looters had long since scavenged anything of value from the place, but he could have broken into a few houses, checked a few pantries for canned goods and Dr Pepper, a few closets for guns and ammo of the non-literary kind. There was always something to do around his own place. The perimeter fences and razor wire needed checking and the boards on the windows needed periodic replacing.

Instead, Ty Grady reflected as he lifted the latch on the gate and stalked into the backyard of an elegant brownstone, here he was, gunning for Mrs. O'Malley's friggin' cock-a-poo.

Trust the dog to disappear the minute he showed up. He knew it was still alive, he'd heard the damn thing barking for the entire half a mile it took him to get here. And really fuckin' unfortunately for him, it had to be alive - or at least freshly dead. 

It might have been true that his significant other didn't have much of a metabolism these days, but he still needed to eat, and the meal needed to be more than the mouthful that anything smaller could provide. 

It also needed to be Grade-A plague-free. The virus was hit or miss when it came down to what it affected. Cats and dogs had lucked out, in as much as anything surviving the apocalypse could be lucky, but Ty would be damned if he was going to chop up fuzzy little kitty cats. He liked cats. He did not like dogs. They didn't like him much either.

So fido it was.

 

**

 

By the time Ty returned to the house, padlocked the gates behind him and made sure everything was secure, it was getting dark out, and the rays of the setting sun that managed to make it through the boarded windows washed the house in reds. Ty couldn't help but think that was appropriate. He took a quick shower to wash the blood off and changed into a pair of soft, shredded blue jeans and a green henley. He only stopped by the kitchen to grab the plastic-wrapped package on the counter and headed for the back door. 

Once in the yard, Ty unwrapped the package and dropped the brain in a doggie dish he kept specifically for that purpose. He nudged the dish with his foot, sliding it slowly across the ground until it reached a pair of weatherbeaten, black dress shoes. 

_"Braaaaaaaiiiinsssss..."_

"Stop it already."

Zane paused in the act of bringing the brain to his lips. "Aw, c'mon. That was my best Romero impression."

"I'm not in the mood."

Zane sighed - sort of, since it seemed to take him a moment to remember to inhale first - and dropped the brain back into its dish. "What's wrong, doll?"

"You have to ask?" Ty kicked at a clump of dirt morosely. "Zombie apocalypse. The world is gone. Nick is gone, Kelly is gone, they sailed off together into the great unknown-"

"To the Gulf Coast, actually."

"And from there to god knows where-"

"They're planning to make their way to the Grand Canyon. It's a good plan. Zombie approved." Zane grinned, not as scary a prospect as it seemed since Ty (thoughtfully) provided him with a toothbrush to brush the gristle from his teeth. "Rough terrain. High ground and a water supply, lots of cave systems. Very defensible."

"I'll bet Ma and Pa are holed up in a mine somewhere. Grandpa, too."

"You could probably cut off a head with a shovel," Zane said thoughtfully. He picked the brain back up and took a bite, chewing meditatively.

"I can only hope Deuce, Livy and Amelia hauled ass to her parents' and they're in an underground bunker with the rest of the gazillionaires."

"I'm sure they're fine unless they went back to Scotland." Zane paused. "In which case they're safe as long as they don't bring any hired help with them."

"The point that I'm trying to make," Ty went on as if he hadn't heard, "is that everyone else is either cut off or dead. I'm sure Owen is locked up somewhere with lasers and searchlights, Digger...is probably off hunting gators or something and doesn't even know yet. You're dead. Undead. Whatever. I'm out there scalping and butchering Fluffy for you. Christ, I've hit an all time low."

"It's not that bad."

Ty gave Zane a sidelong look that would peel paint. "How do you figure that, exactly?"

"At least I've still got my health."

At that, Ty turned toward Zane and stared at him full on.

Zane grinned crookedly as he popped the last of his meal into his mouth. "I'm telling you, it's not bad. I've had it worse after a weekend-long bender in Miami."

"Somehow I doubt that," Ty muttered under his breath. Although, to be fair, Zane looked good. He always looked good to Ty, no question about that. Tall, built and dark, with patrician features and black hair with silver roots just coming in at the temples, he was a handsome man.

But healthy? No.

Zane's skin, normally a caramel-tan owing to some Hispanic ancestor in the Garretts' distant past, was now almost curdled cream pale with a slighly bluish tinge. He might just have been able to pass for terminally ill if it weren't for the gaping bullet holes in his chest (some of which Ty'd apologized for) and the blazing red, slightly sunken eyes the color of old blood. 

As Ty's eyes moved over him, the grin dropped from Zane's face. "Baby, we have to talk."

"'Bout what?"

"I'm chained to the wall, Ty."

Ty smiled weakly. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm afraid you'll leave me?"

"I'm living in a doghouse."

"It's a perfectly nice doghouse."

"Ty."

"What? You've got your laptop and some books. It's a lot more comfy now with the throw pillows."

Zane slammed his hand down on the roof of the doghouse, red eyes flashing. "Not the damn point, Ty."

Ty winced. He wasn't worried about Zane coming after him, not...really. Zane had been a man of iron will and control in life (perhaps too much, Ty had often thought), and he remained so in death. Remarkably so, if his patience concerning his current digs was anything to judge by. But still.

Undead.

Brain-eating. 

_Zombie._

"You know I could break the chain if I wanted to," Zane said softly.

Ty closed his eyes. "I know."

"Ty."

"I just... I have to be able to trust you, Zane," Ty whispered in an echo of something Zane had said to him an age ago in New Orleans. "Please give me time."

They stared at each other, not moving. Finally Zane sighed and sank to his knees, crawling toward the dog house to bed down for the night. Ty didn't think Zane could actually sleep anymore, but it had to be more comfortable than sitting on the ground. "Fine. Time is something I've got plenty of, nowadays."

"Thank you, darlin'." 

"G'night, Beaumont. I do love you. Even if you're an asshole."

"Goodnight, Zane. I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, what do I say about this fic? The whole thing started as a lark, really. The magnificent Abi Roux was talking about Walking Dead and teasing us minions with zombie C&R, and a cartoon popped into my head. I ended up drawing it. In the pic, Ty is leaning out of a partially boarded window while a smirking Zombie!Zane is chained to the wall and sitting on a doghouse. From there, the idea for this fic was spawned. I hope you liked it.


End file.
